


Vigil

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Shards and Sparks [42]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, GFY, Gen, Ghosts, Grief, Mentioned Character Death, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10060631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: In March 3019 of the Third Age, Ráva mourns his fallen friend and king.





	

The world fades away beneath the beat of the heart of the Mountain, fire and Flame dancing a tune that roars through his mind in counterpoint to his grief. He leans against the foot of the tomb, ignoring the ache of wounds that stubbornly refuse to heal, eyes closed against the physical world. Others come and go, guttering candles and steady lamps, but none disturb him.

A fading candle echoes his vigil at another tomb, though he will soon enough be alone in the deep crypts save when someone comes to leave a meal or drink. He eats and drinks when they do, to not worry them too greatly, but does not move, not yet. His vigil over the body of a dear friend, as he had not had the chance in battle.

_You would have fallen to defend a life already ending._

Ráva snorts softly, listening to the voice that whispers at the edges of his mind. He remembers the tales Haldasîcil told of Durin's voice still bothering him in dreams. His friend reminding him that he will never truly be gone.

"I am not that easy to kill, otorno." He is that easy to read, though, and he would not have readily let go of Thorin, mortal though he is. Let him go in the end, for what can he do when mortal lives are severed, but at least he would have been there at the end. "I should not have gone."

_I gave you no choice, and I would do it again._

A quiet sigh, and Ráva tilts his head back a little, as if leaning once more against Thorin's throne as he often had - and never mind the various disbelieving, irritated, and scandalized looks when those who came from outside Erebor saw him so.

"I know." It still hurts, that he had been sent from his King's side at the end. No matter that he'd been of aid to those fighting other sources of evil, that he had survived and lived as Thorin no doubt had intended.

There's a noise from the outside world, and a light getting closer. Steady lamp flame, one of the close kin to the royal family, accompanied by the stomp of boots.

"Get up." Dwalin's voice is rough, and Ráva cracks open one eye to study the dwarf. Grief clear in his face, as well as stubborn insistence. A War Master mourning his King, and looking out for those under his command. Even if Ráva isn't technically the latter. "No one's seen hide nor hair of you outside this tomb since you skipped out on the healers."

"I am in no need of their aid. I will live." Ráva watches Dwalin for a long moment before he reaches out, letting the dwarf help him to his feet. It would be polite to reassure the others he's not planning on willing himself to death down here.

_You do not need to die to cease to live. I didn't send you away for you to do one instead of the other._

Ráva lets out a small snort, turning his head to look down at the tomb, the effigy that holds Orcrist, and the blade now laid across the foot of the tomb below that effigy. "Then I will live."

"Good." Dwalin is looking at the tomb when Ráva turns back, but only for a moment before he shakes his head, and leaves the crypt, leaving Ráva to follow without a word.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr 22 September 2016.


End file.
